


Him

by Mersayde



Series: My Darlings [2]
Category: Growing A Sun
Genre: Angst, Emotional Abuse, Hopeful undertones, M/M, Mention of abuse, My oc’s, hookup culture??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 18:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12513680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersayde/pseuds/Mersayde
Summary: Gabe misinterprets





	Him

_What is stronger than the human heart, which shatters over and over again and still lives. -Rupi Kaur_

 

Gabe likes hooking up. Thinks it’s fun. But after a while it just becomes painful. There are nights where all he is, is hurting and wants to be hurt by someone elses hands. To forget he is a person. Forget he can say no. Forget that this isn’t what he wants. Because it’s comfortable. It’s familiar. He can mistake this for love if he wants. This is the only way he knows how to get it. All he can remember. By pretending. Behind sharp tongues and pinned limbs. He can pretend that this is what Love used to feel like. Filling up crevices he can’t reach. Raw and burning. Trying to scratch an itch that won’t go away.

There’s an emptiness that sits waiting for him. Like a hug that never brings comfort or words that cut deeper than they should. And it reminds Gabe of _him_ and for a moment he can feel again. It’s not much. It’s not good. But it’s something.

One night stands are supposed to be fun. No strings attached. No pain or past present. No memories. But that’s all this is for Gabe. He thinks he needs to be punished. Needs to be reminded of what he thought he had and have it ripped away from him, so he can remember why he deserved it. He needs people to take advantage of him. Wants someone to push too far so he can lie and say it’s okay. It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt. So he can remember. That it does sting. That love is pain. That love is pushing boundaries too far and empty promises that’ll make it seem better, but fall short.

He hopes to end up drunk. Stupidly sputtering:

_your place or mine?_

With a smirk on his face and fire burning in his chest. Tries to wipe away the voice that tells him to _think_. Think about what he's doing. His actions. The aftermath. But he doesn't want to. Thinking leads to realizing, and realizing leads to pain. It’s good that alcohol exists. He doesn’t know how he would get through nights, how he could swallow his thoughts if he didn't chase them down with whiskey. Or tequila. Or whatever burns the most and makes his eyes water the fastest.

He wants to pretend that this faceless body is someone he loves. And he can, with enough empty bottles and misplaced kisses.

He likes to imagine that they went out for a movie first,

and held hands all day.

That they laughed until their cheeks hurt.

And playfully tugged at each other’s hearts just to hear the other say it...

It’s easier to pretend.

To pretend that they’re someone who has his heart in their hands.

Those nights are the hardest, those leave him the emptiest. Because he fooled himself into thinking that he could have that, that he did have that. He wakes up disoriented, feeling like he lost himself.

Nothing new.

Looking over he realizes that this faceless body does, in fact, have a face. That they’re not anything he pictured. Thinks some where in the future he’ll be grateful. Glad that they aren’t what he hoped they would be. That they're not the face he imagined. Isn’t the person he thought he wanted in the moment. He’s angry at himself. Angry that he willingly gave up his heart for a dream, a fantasy, and it stings because he can still taste the duplicity that came with their relationship like the fine print on a contract.

The falsehood behind so many words. So many actions. So many pushed buttons, and teasing, and caresses.

He scrubs at his face. Tries to rid himself of the sadness that is settling over his skin.

_Fuck,_ he needs another drink. Needs another faceless body. Another meaningless night. He wants to forget all that was there in something that is not.

Gabe tries not to remember. But he does. Remembers confronting him. Remembers being in tears, trembling. Remembers the muddled mess he always was when with him. How he was so dangerously close to losing his friends, the only good thing he’s made for himself. How he did lose them. How he lost himself.

_“Don’t flatter yourself. You aren’t a victim. I took as much as you let me.”_ Those words, as so many others, ring in his ears. Tug at his composure. Dig into the back of his mind.

How can he forget?

This is his fault. If he didn’t soften himself, or cling so hard, or wasn’t so pathetic, or an easy target, than maybe... _maybe_.

Sometimes he has no reasons.

His eyes burn and his head is swimming and he feels nauseous.

_Not now._ He thinks irritably. He’ll cry later. He’ll throw up later. _Fuck,_ he’ll deal with this _later_ just not _now_ anything but now.

In the quiet grogginess of the morning, Gabe barely pulls himself together. With wobbling legs he finds his clothes, dragging them across his skin, remembering how that used to be something else— someone else. How the warmth of clothes are not the warmth of a body. That the cold under his feet is not something he’s unfamiliar with. Knows it’s creeping up his spine. He gets dressed, hopefully covering up whatever he wants to forget. Gabe remembers when this type of thing was about fun and release, and now it’s about something else. He can’t pin point it. Can't name it. Can't call it out for what it is. It feels like he’s dragging himself through the dark and throwing his body off of a cliff. Waiting to feel the dread of hitting rock bottom. Doesn’t really know why he’s doing this to himself. Doesn't really care.

Shaking his head he calls for a cab, unaware of where he is. The sun stains the back of his skull. Reminding him that days turn and nights tilt. That life is forever moving forward. And he’s not. He’s stuck. Stuck dwelling. Stuck remembering _him._

_Stuck waiting for this shitty cab!_

Gabe doesn’t think it’s okay to mourn after his first love that sprouted in the worst way. A love that dug it’s infested roots in his lungs and grew thorns in his rib cage. A love that forced him to adapt, a love that captured his breath in his throat. With his mouth forming to say no, tears puddling a warning at his feet, his lungs fixing to breathe and his body waiting to burst. Screaming at him to run! _But he can’t._ He’s frozen. Frozen by a convincing tongue that knows exactly how to make living seem possible. That knows exactly how to take apart his sanity. That knows exactly where to focus its pressure, to make him come undone with resignation. Deconstructing his will to survive. That tongue, a part of a face, a part of a body, a part of _him,_ that leaves him apologizing for something that was never his fault. Graveling at his feet for purchase. Gabe just wants to feel appreciated, wants to feel acknowledged, wants to draw out every ounce of happiness from this. Gabe didn’t know— _doesn’t_ know, that you can’t be gifted something that should already be given.

That love was not love. It was toxic, suffocation, manipulative, wrong.

Words run past his mind in a haze. Cutting his fragile skin on their harsh edges. Promising to make him bleed whatever he tried so hard to push away, to pull open his wounds and remind him of this truth. To make him realize he never gave himself the space to heal. Never allowed himself to patch them over with gentle considerations and time.

_Stupid._ He hears. _Pathetic. Worthless. Easy._

_Fuck! Not now, damnit!_ He curses. Never now.

He makes it home. Doesn’t really remember how he got there. He’s glad. He’s tired. Opens the door. Breathes in the air. His heart softens and he feels his stomach start to settle. Ez is leaning over a stack of books, probably smearing his notes with drool. He’s too smart, too driven, for his own good. But the hope the kid has leaves him with a sense of pride, of happiness. He taps his shoulder. It’s Sunday morning, no school.

"You should go to bed." He says and watches Ez rouse awake. Yawning, cracking a few bones. Behind his sleep coated eyes, he glares. Or tries to.

"What?"

"You should at least let Tera know you’re going to be out all night. She was worried sick. Fell asleep in your bed." His words are gentle, but still admonishing.

Gabe curses. Knows her well enough to know that when Tera worries, she _worries_. And that when she cares, she _cares_. He wishes she could openly give those things, that it wasn’t so hard for her. He knows she tries. He makes his way over to his room, wondering why she didn’t sleep in the living area with Ez.

"Tera?" He calls out and she stirs a little. Sporting a grumpy frown and opens an eye. She smiles at Gabe, tension rolling off her body, and shifts over to her side of the bed. It’s routine for them now. He climbs under. His chest feeling a little lighter. Thinks about getting a dog. Maybe. Maybe he’ll spend his nights picking up shit instead of going out.

Doesn’t sound too glamorous. But he’s tired. He’s knows that for sure.

He rests his head on Tera’s chest as she lazily plays in his hair.

"What do you think about me getting a dog?" He voices on a whim. The idea plants a seed. One of change. One he can look forward to growing.

Waits for her to answer, listens to her breathe slowly, feels her heart pump far too fast to just have woken up, smells the faint traces of alcohol on her breath. He knows Tera’s got her own demons to drown out with the night. Wishes they talked about it. Knows it’s something they all have to work on.

"Hm? It better be cute." Is all she mumbles. And Gabe smiles. Really smiles. This feels like love. This feels like family. And for now the void. The emptiness. The loneliness. Is glazed over, forgotten about. Because all he can feel is the warmth of the people he cares for the most caring about him.

And for now, this is exactly what he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so proud of myself for finally writing this! I’ve been meaning to write something like this for Gabe for a while and yay! I know he’s kind of seen as the punchline of jokes more than a character but he presents himself like that for a reason. My poor son I love him. I hope you guys can too, there’s a lot more to him. Ok I’m ranting bye! Tell me your favorite parts!


End file.
